Regrets
by willowwood
Summary: Wesley Reflects On Lilahs Death


Title: Regrets 

  
Author: willowwood  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the shows Buffy the vampire slayer or Angel; they belong to the god Joss Whedon, Fox, UPN and the WB  
  
Summary: Wesley reflects on Lilahs Death  
  
Email: willowwood@postmaster.co.uk

**Regrets**  


When I rounded the corner of the corridor and first saw her limp and dead body in Angelus' embrace. I was filled with a surprising sense of dread, that to be truthful I wasn't entirely expecting.

Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth-her blood, and in the moments that I watched the two of them standing there together-it slowly travelled, spread and smeared, staining the top that she wore, as her heart beat it's last.

"This isn't what it looks like" Angelus had said as though he had wanted to assure me, like the old friend his better self was, is. "....A little too tarty for my taste" I wanted to laugh at him.

Wasn't what it looked like???

A master vampire feeding off a dying or rather dead woman's neck, seemed pretty obvious as to what the hell was going on to me-fortunately I didn't seem able to form words at that very instant. 

And she's too tarty??? This coming from a vampire whose' sire was a 17th century whore.

Anyway tarty wouldn't exactly be a word I personally would have chosen to describe Lilah, sure she liked to get dressed up in her posh suits, and those short skirts came in handy on more than one occasion. 

But really it was all just an act, a show for those senior partners at Wolfram and Hart. So that she'd get what she wanted, and to prove that she was the best at what ever she did or tried to accomplish.

These past few days since she has been here at the Hyperion, I suspect the others have seen it too. The softer side of Lilah Morgan, below the rich bitch attitude she put on for her bosses. Which is why they gather around us now, there expressions mixtures of satisfaction, regret, relief and remorse.

As I wrap her up in the plastic sheet, I can't help noticing how peaceful she looks, finally at rest. She didn't even look this content when I'd watched, whilst she was sleeping, even in the lands of dreams the pressure and struggle of the senior partners playing on her mind.

It's ironic really, she always said I wouldn't be able to save her, how ever much I wanted to I just wouldn't. I even managed to lead her, bleeding and wounded out of Wolfram and Hart's offices to the sewers. The Beast hot on our heels, her co-workers life-less and bloodied forms scattered about, and yeah I thought that was the end, the end of her suffering, her struggle, the end of our sordid little affair, but it wasn't.

We should have made sure Angelus was dead, dusted him before he had chance to escape, into the streets as soon as we knew the Woe-ping had been stolen. Maybe then this wouldn't have happened; after all we'll probably never find his soul again, how ever hard we look. I doubt The Beast will give it back, with out the exchange of a few, if not all of us as casualties, and it'd be to much to lose Fred-to lose any of us really- I realise that now with Lilahs body laid out before me.

I know I've got to bury her, I want to, need to make sure she doesn't come back like Connor said, after all who knows what Angelus did to her.

Which is why I take her down to the basement- out of sight, out of mind of the others, so they don't have to pretend for my account that they're sad, any longer? I guess down here I should say my proper good-byes, even though I feel they're unnecessary.

After all it's not like, what we had was a proper relationship, it was just for the sex, nothing more- simply two lonely people who needed someone. Trust me it makes life simpler without the love, no commitment, no holding hands and walks in the park. Because we didn't, love each other-Huh I sound as if I'm trying to convince myself- And now we'll never know if we could have learned to either.

Sometimes I used to think that Lilah needed somebody, that what we were doing meant so much more to her than it did me-and I hated myself for it-even though I never acted as though it was anything more, and yet I still feel responsible. 

But still how ever much I wanted it over I didn't expect this, I didn't want this-cause like she said I'd always thought I'd be able to save her, one day.

I brush my hand across her cheek feeling her soft, cool, pale flesh beneath my fingers. Before lifting the axe above my head, leaving it hovering there for a moment as I take in a calming breath-convincing myself one more time that this is for the best. Before letting my arms momentum, bring the axe crashing down, directly aimed at her neck.

The blade slides through her flesh, blood and bone like butter, and the thud as it connects with the wooden table beneath her resounds through the darkened room.

Finally, signalling the end, her end.

**The End**


End file.
